That Wild Player, page 4
Lovely. Now I can’t ask my boss to rescue me.
The intercom chirps. “Mr. Carmichaels is here,” comes Ophelia’s voice.
Alexandra hits a remote on the table in front of us. “Send him in, please.”
The door opens, and a young guy walks in. For a second all I can do is blink. I swear Alexandra said he was a former entrepreneur. This guy looks more like a model than—
It’s CJ!
Is he stalking me? The temperature in the office seems to jump ten degrees. I start to squirm, then catch myself. Chill, girl. I’m in my power outfit—right down to the undies.
Alexandra walks toward him with arms spread, and they hug, air-kissing like French politicians. “So good to see you. I was thrilled when I heard you were interested.”
“Of course I’m interested. You know I owe you one.”
His voice is the same as last night—a low smoothness that leaves me flushed and my belly fluttering. I shrink back into the couch, hoping for a secret escape hatch. If not, then something—anything—to bail me out of this.
Seeing him again…hanging out with him, even in a professional capacity, is a violation of a personal policy. I don’t associate with men who’ve seen me in low moments, and CJ’s been there for two: the humiliating date at the sushi restaurant (plus the lipstick on my teeth) and catching my thrice-cursed underwear in the face. It’s already bad enough I’m going to have to see more of him as Matt’s best man.
“Nonsense,” she says, pulling back. “You don’t owe me anything. I did what any smart businesswoman would do.”
She gestures toward me, and CJ looks over. The full impact of that gaze is heady…like the Macallan 25 I filched from my mom’s cabinet once. I’m not ready for it this early in the morning.
“This is our liaison, Michelle Malone. She’s brilliant, and I’m sure she’ll help in every way possible to get you ready.”
“Perfect.” His lips curve into an office-appropriate smile, but his eyes…oh, his eyes are lit with a wicked, satisfied gleam. “We actually met already—I was over at Jan’s place last night. Nice to see you again.” He extends a hand, the move entirely too smooth.
My CEO is watching, so I shake it instead of pretending not to see it. “The pleasure’s all mine. Again.” I paste on a fake smile, since I can’t tell the truth.
He doesn’t let go immediately…not that I mind too terribly, because he’s deliciously warm, and I get a whiff of cologne from our proximity. It has a hint of something woodsy and smoky.
Doesn’t matter how hot he is. He saw Humiliated Michelle. And he’s now in the Work category. That makes him furniture.
True. I have another personal policy about mixing men and work. I don’t do interoffice romances. My mom’s handled divorces for numerous couples who hooked up at work, got married, and then decided “never mind.” Of course, it’s always super awkward afterward, made worse if someone moves on with another coworker.
Consider him a chair you sit on.
Yes. A chair. A perfectly unsexy item. But then an image of me parked on CJ’s lap with his arms around me like a belt pops up. And instead of irritating me, it makes me feel…warmer…and slightly breathless. And the Michelle in the image giggles and puts her arms around his neck.
I shake my head to disperse that unhelpful vision.
Alexandra is talking. I smile and nod every so often to show I’m listening…even though I’m not, really. I’m too distracted. I’m not sure why CJ needs a liaison—using our app isn’t brain surgery—and I’m also not sure why it has to be me from HR rather than someone from marketing. CJ continues to invade my personal space, sitting next to me on the couch, his long right leg only an inch away from my left.
He shifts his weight as he addresses Alexandra, and his leg brushes mine. Sparks run through me, and no matter how innocently he smiles, I know he did it on purpose.
Thankfully, the meeting ends soon—Alexandra is a busy woman—and I leave without waiting for CJ.
Yes! An elevator’s waiting with open doors. I rush in and hit the Close button at least a hundred times.
Come on, come on!
Ever so slowly, the doors start to slide, closing the gap. I see CJ coming across the floor. Almost…almost…
Yes! Now the space is so small, not even I could stick my hand through. To the ninth floor, baby!
But the elevator doesn’t move. Instead, the doors part like the Red Sea…
And CJ gives me a crooked grin.
Chapter Six
CJ
Michelle looks at me with her shoulders tense and those caramel-colored eyes narrowed.
I can’t help but smile. She’s utterly adorable with that fire and dismay in her gaze. And the way her chest rises and falls with each breath is hypnotizing.
I step into the elevator and hit the close button, getting a whiff of her citrus shampoo and apple-scented lotion in the process. Yummy.
“I’m glad we ran into each other—again—and that you’re my liaison,” I say in my sincerest tone.
From the way Michelle’s lips purse, I know she doesn’t buy that what happened in Alexandra’s office was just a coincidence. Smart girl.
All this is no accident. I asked Alexandra if Michelle could be my liaison, claiming she’d put me at ease, since she’s Jan’s close friend and seems very capable. Alexandra was surprised at first, not understanding why I needed help with an app that she knows I’ve been using for years. Even if I’d never seen it, I could figure out technology as well as anyone—hell, I made my fortune in Silicon Valley. But I’m not passing up an opportunity to have someone as hot as Michelle show me the ropes. If my computer science TAs had been half as attractive as she is, I would’ve purposely failed CS 101 a few times.
Whether she smelled my bullshit or not, Alexandra agreed…with a stern warning to behave. “Michelle’s a nice girl.”
Well, of course. And I won’t do anything she doesn’t want. I’ve seen how protective her best friends are, and from the way Matt and Luke were mooning over them, I know I’m not getting any help from those two.
“Relax,” I say to Michelle. “I promise I’ll never subject you to toilet humor. And I floss regularly.”
Her spine straightens further, her shoulders pushed back. It’s a stance of outrage and dignity, but I can’t help but notice the most important point—it makes her breasts push forward against the form-fitting dress, which, by the way, is the color of a well-aged merlot, one of my favorite wines. I bet she tastes just as delicious.
“Even if that rude guy hadn’t been there,” I continue, “I would’ve come over and rescued you from your kelp date.”
“Thanks,” she says, her gaze on the digital panel over the doors. The numbers change as we descend, and she taps one dainty foot.
Nice shoes. Not that I know much about women’s footwear, but I like the way the straps wrap around her narrow feet and show off cute little burgundy toenails. And the heels make her calves look flexed and more toned.
It isn’t like me to notice women’s toes and such, but I can’t help it with Michelle. There’s something alluringly feminine about her that I find irresistible.
The elevator stops on the ninth floor and opens with a ding. Michelle exits, and I follow her out, admiring the way her ass moves as she walks.
“I’d love to help, but I think it’ll be better if you independently install the app and explore,” she says, a little too casually as she marches down the hall. “It’ll give you a chance to see how user-friendly it is.”
User-friendly. Really. She should cite more attributes from the latest marketing campaign if she wants to get rid of me. “I tried, but—”
“I have lots of meetings this morning.”
“I understand. How about lunch?” I flash her a smile.
She blinks a couple of times, then inhales deeply as though she’s bracing for something. “I’m not sure…”
Guess I should just go for blunt and to the point. “I’m single. I like you.”
She arches an eyebrow. “You don’t even know me.”
“No, but I know a lot about you. You’re gorgeous. Obviously smart, since you work for Alexandra. And you have the patience of Job to put up with those two men last night.”
She studies me in silence. Finally, she sighs, shaking her head. “I don’t do anything with people I have a professional relationship with. Call it…a policy.”
“Totally get that.” I pull out my phone. “I’ll text Alexandra that I can’t do the campaign after all.” I put the sincerest regret I can muster into my voice. Alexandra helped me tons when I first started my company. I’m not bailing on her, no matter what. But Michelle doesn’t know that.
“No!” She gasps, her hand shooting out toward my phone.
Trying not to laugh, I raise my arm, keeping the phone out of her reach. She goes on her toes, then pushes her body against mine. I don’t think she realizes what she’s doing, her focus one hundred percent on wresting the phone from my grasp, but holy shit, the feel of all those sweet, soft curves heats my blood. They fit the planes of my body perfectly, and I can smell the subtle feminine undertone of her skin, the faint mint on her breath. Her hair is warm and silken, and it’s all I can do to not bury my hand in the thick brown waves.
Suddenly she yelps, her body tilting awkwardly. I wrap my arm around her waist. Triumph lights up her gaze as her hand closes around my phone and yanks it away. I’ve been had—not that I mind, since I have her pressed from shoulders to hips against me. And from the widening of her eyes and a quick catch of her breath, she definitely felt my erection against her belly.
I smile, enjoying this much more than I should. She can have a lot more than my phone if she wants to rub against me some more.
“Wow, Michelle. I’d never suspect you’re the type to sexually harass somebody!”
A high-pitched, slightly nasal voice interrupts our moment, and Michelle pushes away frantically, her face beet red. Since I don’t want to embarrass her, I let go. Who the hell is this intruder?
It’s a woman, her almost-black hair pulled back into a ponytail. Her eyelashes are fake. So are her tits, which are nearly spilling out of a super-tight micromini dress that has to be illegal in at least fifteen states. She stares, beady-eyed, like a goat spotting a watermelon.
“Izzy,” Michelle says, her voice stiff as plastic. “What are you doing on up here?”
Izzy waves a sheet of paper. “Turning in my benefits paperwork.”
“That was due last Friday.”
Izzy shrugs. “Sorry. But I’m kind of glad I’m late. It’s fun to watch you be a hypocrite after our gender-sensitivity training earlier this week, Michelle.”
What a bitch. “It’s not harassment if neither of us minds,” I say. “And believe me, I’m sensitively aware of our respective genders.”
“I still find her offensive.”
“Then quit finding me,” Michelle suggests.
Izzy looks at me. I don’t like the weirdly covetous gleam in her eye.
“If it escaped your notice,” I continue, putting a protective hand at Michelle’s elbow, “I lost my balance. Michelle tried to help, but couldn’t do much, since I’m bigger and heavier. Still, imagine what bones I might’ve broken if it weren’t for her quick reflexes.”
Izzy frowns, then clears her throat. “You can see Michelle’s busy with HR, so you should free up her time. I can be your liaison.”
What the hell? How does she know about that so soon?
Michelle sighs with exasperation. “If you want him that badly, take it up with Alexandra,” she says.
Izzy forces a tittering laugh. “Mimi’s going to say no to this.” She turns to me with a conspiratorial wink, which is weird as hell. “Mimi’s Michelle’s boss. She isn’t easy to work for.”
I really don’t care for this woman at all. Or what she keeps trying to do. If I end up with her, I’m not only texting Alexandra I quit, but I’m going on a cruise to the Bahamas so I don’t end up in jail for homicide. Or worse.
“Alexandra already told Mimi,” Michelle says coldly, clenching and unclenching her free hand. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting.”
She slaps my phone against my chest, makes a ninety-degree turn and walks away. That leaves me alone with Izzy, who seems to be crazier than earrings on a lizard.
She wastes no time, sidling up to me like a sticky slug. “It doesn’t matter what Alexandra and Mimi said. I’d be happy to show you the app’s features…or anything else you want to see, if you know what I mean.” She giggles, fluttering her eyelashes and hollowing her cheeks, while pulling her lips together into a tight O.
I lean closer. “I know exactly what you mean,” I say, pitching my voice low.
Her eyes glaze a little, her tongue running over her lips.
I smile. “But honestly? I’d rather fuck my mom’s goat.”
Chapter Seven
Michelle
“Talk about a mood killer, haha. ‘Wait, before you take my bra off…I need to file paperwork with HR.’” Laura rolls her eyes as we leave the meeting.
It ran late because of a surprise item from the legal team regarding interoffice dating. We don’t have a policy on it—except unofficially Alexandra doesn’t approve—but in light of the current climate, the legal guys consider it prudent we make one. It’s simple, really. No interoffice nookie unless both parties sign a form expressing their overt willingness, plus another form releasing the company from all liability arising from said relationship. The legalese made my head hurt, but we all had to read it.
A few of my coworkers murmur their agreement with Laura’s snark. I do too, actually, but since I don’t go for interoffice shenanigans, it doesn’t matter much.
It’s already twelve thirty, and I’m starving. A granola bar is a great breakfast option—quick and nutritious—but it doesn’t stay with you. My stomach growls pitiably, although I have no clue what I want for lunch. Maybe a sandwich from the cafeteria if there’s anything decent left. The app dev team has Pizza Friday. Maybe HR should have something like that too.
I get to my desk and find a gorgeous black, red and gold box with a set of bamboo chopsticks on it. Huh. Can’t possibly be mine…
Or…can it?
I peel a small yellow sticky note from the elegant plastic container.
People say “stay hungry”…but that’s BS. Enjoy.
–CJ
I purse my mouth. Normally I have no problem accepting stuff from men. If they want to give me things, why say no? If whatever it is comes with strings, I can just snip them, easy-peasy. But I can sense CJ’s offering doesn’t have snippable strings. It comes with an indestructible titanium chain.
See what’s inside first, then decide.
Maybe the food is deep-fried octopus testicles or something. Then I can cheerfully reject it and him.
I open the lid, then breathe out softly at the sight of the most gorgeous maguro nigiri—the sushi I wanted to eat, but couldn’t, on my ill-fated date. The fish is uniformly cut and draped beautifully over bullet-shaped rice balls. And they are calling me to eat them. Now.
My mouth waters. There’s no way I’m letting this go to waste. It’s not like I can give it back to CJ the next time I see him. The maguro will be gross by then. And it’s a crime against some UN convention or other to reject beautiful tuna. Or it should be.
My stomach growls. Screw it. I devour the sushi with gusto and extra wasabi. The fish is super fresh and über-delicious—like so many slices of forbidden fruit.
As I shove the third piece into my mouth, I get a text from Sammi.
–Sammi: Okay, girlfriend, spill.
–Michelle: What?
–Sammi: You’ve been holding out on me.
–Michelle: I would never!
Unless she thinks me not sharing all the toilet jokes from last night is holding out.
–Sammi: Then what, pray tell, is this?
She sends a picture of me and CJ from the morning. My face flames as I stare at the photo. Oh my God. I looked like that? No wonder Izzy got all catty. I’m pressed up against him, his back against the wall. It looks like I’m trying to cage and hump the guy. At least you can’t see his erection, which I definitely felt toward the end once I realized what the hell I was doing.
When he wrapped his arm around my waist, my breasts crushed against his chest, and it was all I could do to stay still as I absorbed the heat, smell and feel of him through my clothes. He was all hardness, his mouth so close I could’ve kissed him by leaning just a little bit forward. And his erection pushing against my belly… I should’ve been upset. This was at work, and we are professionally involved. But instead, my heart drummed against my chest faster, and the place where his cock pressed against me felt molten.
I puff out a breath, then start fanning myself a little. The A/C must be malfunctioning or something. I should file a repair request with maintenance.
–Sammi: Well?
–Michelle: No comment.
–Sammi: Where are you?
–Michelle: My desk.
–Sammi: I’m coming over now.
Oh crap. She’s going to dig. I have no idea why she decided to be a programmer, because she should’ve been a homicide detective…or an IRS auditor.
Within five minutes, Sammi shows up…with Jan. Of course. They work together in app dev, and Jan wouldn’t miss this chance to gossip.
Sammi’s in a pretty pink top, frayed jeans and chunky boots. She’s gotten over the “black only” dress code she stuck to for years because Luke thinks she’s hot in every color. Jan’s in a cream-colored dress with sunflowers on the skirt. It was a gift from Matt—sunflowers are her favorite.
“Doesn’t Tim give you anything to do?” I grouse when they grab two free chairs and settle in front of my desk.
“Nothing more urgent than this,” Sammi says. “Hey, how come HR gets sushi for lunch and we get pizza?”
“It’s not all of HR,” Jan says after glancing around. “Just Michelle.”
